


Our Last

by StellaC



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Incest, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaC/pseuds/StellaC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor found Haytham inside Fort George. They kissed. And dueled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Last

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I was planning to update something else today. But I had a dream last night, which then became the fic you are going to read (a tip of the hat to our dear ol' Stephane Meyer). It doesn't even make sense because I was playing Hitman: Absolution before going to bed. Anyways, I had to write a fic about it because the plot was so complete and it was really, really sad. It still hurts even after I finished writing. I don't know why it had to be steampunk in my dream, though my guess is it had something to do with the elevator. And finally, I hope it doesn't suck *coughTwilightcough* and maybe you guys will enjoy it!

He knew Haytham was his father. He knew.

But he just couldn’t bring himself to look at the older man as the other person who gave him life.

Instead, the only thing he noticed when they first encountered each other at the abandoned church was how handsome Haytham was.

It might have been the light. Or it might have been the fact that Haytham fulfilled his every fantasy about a partner. He couldn’t tell.

He considered the six months they had worked together the best time of his life.

Of course, they did more than just “working together.” Surprisingly, Haytham turned out to be quite the sweet, tender lover. Perhaps, he was trying to make up for whatever wrong he felt he had done to Connor’s mother. Perhaps, he was as in love as Connor himself had been. Connor really couldn’t tell.

However, Valley Forge happened. The fateful night that severed all of their ties and left them both hurt and broken. And Connor realized, whatever love they had shared to begin with, had already been engulfed by the ancient war the moment it sparked.

They were the embodiments of their respective causes. Templar and Assassin. Order and Freedom. They were never meant to be in love.

 

As soon as the bombardment on Fort George began, Connor started to sprint, despite the constant shaking of the ground, the flying debris, or the thunderous explosions of cannonballs.

He was here to kill Lee. And that was all he cared about.

His tomahawk stroke left and right, killing any Templar guard he saw on sight. It was not long after it started dripping blood and became harder to smash skulls and sever spines. So he had to switch to his sword.

He made a run towards the elevator before its door closed. Lee was most certainly inside the complex. Connor just knew.

There were already two civilians inside the elevator, both were as frightened as rabbits being caught by the hunter. They were clutching to each other in the corner, watching the Assassin in scared, wary eyes. Connor tried his best to pull a tight smile at them, but that was all he could do.

He had to find Lee.

Before it reached the lowest floor, the elevator opened again. A man in deep blue cloak and tricorn hat slipped in. They locked eyes.

Haytham’s hair was loosened. And Connor had never realized how beautiful the Grand Master would look with his hair loosened. It was grey and turning silver. But it looked just like the white foam on top of the rogue wave, and it made him want to just drown himself in the silver hair that smelled like seawater.

But then Haytham’s fingers was wrapping around Connor’s head, and pulling him in for a kiss.

It was the saddest kiss Connor had ever had in his life, and he doubted he would have anything exceeded that in the future. Without saying a word, Haytham was telling him how much he missed him, how much he loved him, and how sorry he was that things had to come down to this. Their tongues danced around each other in slow and soft steps. But at the same time, they were desperate for each other, trying to grasp the last hint of tenderness and love before having to walk on the path that was full of darkness and sorrow.

In the end, Haytham reluctantly broke the kiss, ignoring Connor’s attempt to chase after his mouth. He sighed.

Connor blinked at him. He then realized what they just did, and turned to look at their audience in the corner. Those poor people looked even more frightened now.

“Why are you here?” asked Connor, breathlessly. “Where is Lee?”

“Gone,” said Haytham. He put on his emotionless mask of the Grand Master again, though there was still a hint of want and pain in his blue eyes.

“I am leaving as soon as the elevator stops. I just want to find Lee.” Connor looked at his father and lover pleadingly. A thousand unspoken words were melted within his unshed tears.

“Over my dead body,” said Haytham, stoutly.

The elevator came to a halt, and its door opened with a loud creak. The civilians darted outwards as soon as they could, and disappeared into the darkness of the underground tunnels.

The two of them stepped out of the elevator and entered a large lobby. Under the dim and flickering lights, Connor could see an octopus of tubes hanging on the ceiling, and some furniture scattered in the room.

Haytham took a few more steps forward, and turned, blade at the ready.

“I don’t want to kill you,” pled Connor, though his hand was on the hilt of his own sword.

“Don’t be daft, boy!” hissed Haytham. “You know this is not about you and me. It’s so much more than that.”

Connor sighed. He eventually drew out his sword resignedly.

“I just wish things could have been different.” He stared at the Templar, with a trail of shimmer on his face.

“Me too, Connor.” Haytham let out a tired smile. “Me too.”

Then he charged, blade whipping towards Connor’s left side. The Assassin deflected the blow with a sort of wild grace that had captivated the Templar in the first place. He then immediately leaned forwards and elbowed the older man between the eyes.

Haytham staggered. His eyesight became hazy. Yet, he still managed to predict the movement of Connor’s steel and tilted it to the side with a flick of the wrist.

But then something struck him in the chest. He looked down, and found a bloody tomahawk embedded in the middle of his torso. A smear of red started to blossom on his navy outer coat.

He fell to the ground, dropping his sword. He couldn’t help but smile.

“That was clever,” he whispered. Blood was leaking from his lips.

Connor threw his sword away and rushed to Haytham’s side. He held the older man’s head onto his lap, stroking his cheek with a trembling hand.

“I am so sorry,” wept Connor. A drop of tear fell onto Haytham’s face.

“As am I,” said Haytham, before coughing up more blood. “I can’t help but…feel proud of you…”

Connor didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. So he just squeezed the older man’s hand.

“Farewell, Connor…”

Then Haytham went limp. The last trace of life escaped his body. But there was still a smile lingered on his face.

“Farewell, Haytham.”

Connor lowered his head, and planted a kiss on his father and lover’s forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Now we can all curl into a ball and cry together.


End file.
